


Clouded

by OrangeRaven989



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Getting Back Together, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeRaven989/pseuds/OrangeRaven989
Summary: She’d mentioned returning to the monastery for the Millennium Festival, and initially he thought she was joking. The monastery was gone. The Professor was gone. There was nothing left to go back to. But after hearing the rumors, he knew. She’d gone back. And he didn’t.He loved her more than he could ever put into words. And he didn’t go back.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Clouded

**Author's Note:**

> I love Annette/Ashe so damn much and I really wanted to play with the Golden Deer route dynamic where Ashe doesn't come back to the monastery and has to be re-recruited as an enemy unit.
> 
> Combine that with a pre-timeskip romance with Annette and, well, the angst just writes itself. Whew!
> 
> Bending canon a little by altering the Annette/Ashe supports, but it's for the greater good I promise :)

There were rumors swirling all around. It didn’t take long for word to travel throughout the Kingdom, especially a rumor as big as this one. The mercenary who wielded the Sword of the Creator was back. He’d fought off the Empire when they sought to overrun Garreg Mach. And the leader of the Alliance had been there, too. It was still an unconfirmed rumor. But deep in his heart Ashe knew it was true. And he hated it.

He’d inherited Castle Gaspard but now it sat empty. Count Rowe had taken the territory anyway, and he wanted nothing to do with a house haunted by the ghost of the adoptive father he’d slain years ago. So he sat in a shack in a town in Rowe territory, not knowing whether he was serving the Kingdom or the Empire or if there was any difference anymore.

All he wanted was to be a knight. Now he was a knight. He served a lord. And he should have been happy about it, but there was nothing to be happy about. Because the Professor came back. The Professor returned to the monastery, and he didn’t. The rest of the class he’d transferred into had returned to the monastery, and he didn’t. And most importantly, the woman he loved had returned to the monastery. And he didn’t.

He’d known she was planning to go back. She wrote him a letter. They’d corresponded all the time after the war started. But slowly the letters came further and further apart, until one every few moons was considered frequent. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, except maybe Cornelia. But with the Kingdom in disarray there was no telling who he was supposed to pledge allegiance to, when he might get deployed in service of House Rowe, and who he’d be deployed against.

Now there were new rumors swirling.

The ragtag group that was holding on to the monastery was short on troops and reaching out to House Daphnel of the Alliance for reinforcements. Which proved that the Alliance was making a move against the Empire, despite all outward appearance of trying to stay out of the conflict and attend to its own civil unrest. Ashe heard the rumors at the tavern, which he had begun to frequent, and every time his heart raced. A spy from House Rowe had returned. The group flying the banner of the Crest of Flames was going to meet with House Daphnel in the Valley of Torment.

House Rowe was deploying to intervene, on behalf of the Empire.

It wasn’t an official order yet, but the swirling rumors were always harbingers of what was to come. Ashe finished his ale and sat, alone in the corner, watching the soldiers and militiamen laughing and fighting and champing at the bit to go beat down the scumbags who sought to resist. His hands shook. Not due to the idea of fighting; no, he’d grown used to that. But he knew who he’d see there. The bartender approached and asked if he’d like another. He hesitated, then nodded. He needed to drink.

He reported for duty when summoned.

There was a gaping hole in his chest, and he walked the paths as an automaton, numb and lifeless, operating without feeling. He was a knight. It had been his dream, and now it was a reality. He was serving his lord, just as he’d always wanted. And now his lord was sending the Gray Lion and his entourage to fight in his honor.

Ashe walked, the sight of Gwendal up front and the flags of House Rowe flying ahead, beside, and behind him. He did not tremble. Instead he walked with his eyes cast down, the sky overcast above him but holding out rain. He almost wished it would rain. Maybe then he’d have some kind of distraction. But instead his mind raced with images of the past and he couldn’t make them stop.

He saw his first days at the monastery, settling into his dorm room, striding out onto the grounds to meet his new class. The Blue Lions, congregating in their classroom. He remembered an offhand remark from Dedue about cooking, which drew him to the man from Duscur. He remembered seeing the other students out of the corner of his eye, turning his head, and catching the gaze of someone from across the room—a sprightly girl with orange hair. He remembered her smile.

They saw each other in class the next day as Professor Hanneman began his lecture. They exchanged smiles again from across the room. The next day they sat side-by-side and chatted. In almost no time at all he had become close friends with Annette Fantine Dominic. Not even a week later he was head over heels in love with her.

He remembered the day after he fought his own adoptive father, when she wordlessly sat beside him and let him weep on her shoulder. How she stroked his head and told him it would be all right, because he could talk to her about anything and she would listen. How he opened up and let her in and told her everything. How she responded that she knew what it was like to lose a father—not physically, but what amounted to the same end result. How she reciprocated that openness and told him things she hid from even her closest friends.

He remembered the day she told him she was considering switching classes. She’d become friends with Lysithea, Marianne, and Hilda. She wanted to learn from Professor Byleth. She wanted space from the drama of Dimitri and Felix, of Sylvain and Ingrid. He remembered his heart sinking in his chest, not knowing what to say, not knowing how he’d handle her absence. Then she encouraged him to come with her.

Looking back, maybe he should have refused. Maybe this whole situation could have been avoided if he’d remained with the Blue Lions. He scoffed at the thought—of course it wouldn’t have mattered. He went with her. He transferred to the Golden Deer and made friends with Ignatz and Leonie and Marianne and even Claude. Mercedes and Ingrid transferred in as well, after some time. It was nice. He still had Annette. She still sat beside him.

When the Ethereal Moon came there wasn’t even a question about who he’d be going with to the ball. He didn’t even have to ask. She just came up behind him, grabbed his shoulders, and told him he’d need to practice dancing so they wouldn’t get laughed at. Then she spun him around and they waltzed together in the middle of the courtyard. Sylvain whistled as he walked by. He could still feel the heat burning on his cheeks, but Annette had pulled him closer and stuck out her tongue at Sylvain.

He could still feel her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her waist. He could still feel her warmth, right up against him, as they danced together at the ball. Her head on his chest as the night went on and she got tired. Her hand in his as they headed outside to the courtyard together and nestled under a tree. The thumping of his heart as they sat together talking. The shaking of his hands as he wrapped his arms around her. Her ragged breathing. The press of her lips against his.

They were in love. Happy, effortless love. No one was surprised when the rumors spread. No one was surprised when they confirmed the rumors. Everyone knew they were perfect for each other. He’d never been happier in his life, and she wore a constant smile so wide he couldn’t believe her cheeks didn’t give out. They had even started talking about what they would do after graduating from the Officer’s Academy. What their future together would be like.

But then the war started. He squeezed his eyes shut and wandered into the soldier marching in front of him. Apologizing, he kept onward toward the Valley. The war started, the monastery was evacuated, and everyone scattered. The Professor disappeared. He returned to Rowe territory with no thoughts of swearing loyalty to the Leicester Alliance. Surely there was no such expectation just because he’d joined the class. But the letters he received from Annette during that time seemed to suggest that she felt differently. She frequently mentioned her Alliance friends. She often said that she had no real place left for her in the Kingdom—not without her father. But Ashe was a knight. He served Count Rowe, because Count Rowe was the lord of the land upon which Castle Gaspard sat. And if he was loyal to anything in this world, it was the home he’d created with Lonato.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The rain would fall soon enough, and then they’d reach the Valley. She’d mentioned returning to the monastery for the Millennium Festival, and initially he thought she was joking. The monastery was gone. The Professor was gone. There was nothing left to go back to. But after hearing the rumors, he knew. She’d gone back. And he didn’t.

He loved her more than he could ever put into words. And he didn’t go back.

And he knew what that meant.

There was no sign of any armies at Ailell when they arrived. They set up camp, the oppressive heat cooking them alive in their armor, and they waited. Waited for the rumors to pan out—to see the flag of House Daphnel and the flag of the Crest of Flames. Ashe sat, eating gruel out of a tin cup, hoping against all odds that no one would show and knowing they would. The rumors were true. The rumors were always true. And it only took a day.

The Crest of Flames, painted on a flag carried by the smallest army he’d ever seen. It couldn’t even be called an army. It was a handful of people and a few soldiers in tow. From his perch high over the volcanic floor he could barely make out their faces, but he knew. He saw the green hair of their Professor. The wyverns that belonged to Hilda and Claude. The jet black Pegasi belonging to Marianne and Constance. The ivory white Pegasi belonging to Ingrid and Leonie. And among the foot soldiers he thought he saw the blue robes. She was tiny among the tiny army below, but he saw her.

And then Gwendal gave the order. Leave no survivors.

They deployed into the Valley. He took his position in the middle of things—his orders were to snipe the fliers out of the sky. He would be targeting Marianne, Constance, Leonie, Hilda, Claude, and Ingrid. He would be putting arrows through the wings of their animals, shooting them down for his comrades to kill once they landed. His stomach twisted in knots. It was all he could do to keep himself from throwing up. He almost wished that the fire beneath his feet would just swallow him up.

The battle began before he even realized it, and the clanging of steel against steel rang out loud over the shouts of the soldiers. He looked up to catch glimpses of the flying units he was meant to target, but they weren’t inept enough to fly into his range. Instead they circled around far to his right, launching attacks at the heavily armored soldiers from a distance and swooping in to pick off the archers when the path was clear. A mixture of relief and guilt washed over him.

The soldiers around him surged forward. He kept to his post, as any good sniper knew to do, and watched as the infantrymen around him took their turns at attacking. They all fell. His pulse raced, and his eyes darted back and forth, looking for some kind of explanation. A wyvern shot by overhead, raining arrows down around them before darting off into the distance. He jumped, notching an arrow and taking aim, but Claude was much too fast. By the time Ashe let his arrow fly the dragon was far out of reach.

The moment passed in the blink of an eye, and when Ashe realized that he’d just shot at one of his former friends he felt a wave of nausea almost completely overtake him.

But the soldiers were still falling. He swung back in time to see one get blasted away with a burst of wind magic and another get swatted by what looked like a chain made of bones. His heart sank. As the dust settled, two figures stood primed for the next attack.

It was their hair he noticed first: a shock of vibrant green and the familiar orange of a new sunrise. Then he saw their expressions. Fierce determination, no mercy. They were here to secure troops from House Daphnel in order to fight against the Empire. The army of House Rowe was in their way. Therefore, they needed to be eliminated.

His hands shook. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face, the face he once held in his hands as he pressed kisses into it, the face that filled his heart with such warmth that he was able to crawl back from the depression he’d sank into after their fight against Lonato. The face that smiled up at him at the ball, flushed pink. The face that he hadn’t seen in five years.

It was still the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

He notched his arrow, blinking the tears out of his eyes. This was his duty, as a knight of House Rowe. This was what his lord commanded. The odds that his arrow would connect were slim, at this distance. She’d see it coming and dodge, and then counterattack. Her magic was strong enough to knock him out. If she used fire, well… that was probably it. Would she recognize him? Did she hate him for not coming back? Would she be able to strike him down with that hatred? Or would she buckle, just like him?

His pulse pounded in his ears. His eyes stung. He drew back, breathing ragged, and took aim. It was impossible to hold the bow steady. He couldn’t bring himself to aim at her heart, but his aim was so sloppy he didn’t know where the arrow would land. He took a deep breath and hesitated. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. The heat from the Valley was overwhelming, and the sweat from his brow poured down into his eyes, mixing with the tears and blurring his vision. This was the moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to release the arrow.

He blinked. She was looking at him. Through the din of the battle he could almost hear her scream his name.

Then something collided with the side of his head and his entire world went black.

When he opened his eyes his vision was blurry. He blinked a few times until things came into focus and tried to sit up but found himself bound. His limbs wouldn’t move, and when he glanced down he could see lines of rope keeping him in place. He was moving. The room was moving. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, then looked around for some sign. Then he saw the window and the landscape flashing by outside it.

He was in a carriage.

His head hurt. Then he glanced sideways and saw the Professor sitting perpendicular to him. The almost glowing green hair. He looked exactly the same as he had five years ago. It was strange and somewhat horrifying. Then the Professor caught his eye, scowled, and lifted the hilt of his sword. Ashe’s world went black again.

When he opened his eyes again he was no longer bound. He flailed his arms, expecting resistance but finding none, and instead he ended up tossing off the blanket he’d been lying under. His head was pounding—likely from being hit hard enough to knock him unconscious, twice—and he lay back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. It was familiar. From the past. He blinked and it hit him.

He was in the infirmary. At Garreg Mach.

Panic gripped him for a brief moment and his eyes darted back and forth until they came to rest on the form of a young woman sitting in a chair by his bed. Her hair, down and loose rather than tied in ringlets, was the orange of a new sunrise. And her face was the angriest he’d ever seen it.

He was speechless. Annette sat there, just inches away from him. Alive. Safe. But her eyes, usually the deep blue of the calm ocean, looked like a raging sea. She’d been crying.

“You’re awake,” she said, voice curt and sharp.

He hesitated before finding his voice. “I… I’m at the monastery?”

“The Professor brought you back with us,” she replied. “He knocked you out after you…” she trailed off, brow furrowing deeper, lips pale. “After you pointed an arrow at me.”

He winced. There was no rebuttal to that. It was true—he pointed an arrow at her. Whether or not he would have let it fly he couldn’t know. Part of him was convinced he wouldn’t have, but the other part wasn’t so sure. How strong was his sense of duty? But no matter what he thought, she saw him take aim at her. After not returning to the monastery. It was… worse. The feelings she felt now were even worse than what he’d feared. Of course she hated him. She was perfectly justified.

Closing his eyes, he let the excuse die on his tongue and remained silent.

“Why didn’t you come back?” she asked, voice so low he could barely hear her. He looked over and saw the anger almost gone from her face, replaced by sorrow. His heart shattered in his chest. “I waited and waited. Day after day. But… you never came back.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

She eyes hardened immediately and locked on his. “You’re sorry?” she said. “You were standing right next to me when our class agreed to come back for the Millennium Festival. We promised each other we’d…” She took a deep breath. “We were supposed to have a future together, Ashe. But you… abandoned me.”

It felt like a weight was pushing down on his chest. He could say something, but it wouldn’t matter. She was right; he abandoned her. He could tell her he wanted to return to Castle Gaspard but felt out of place there, so he sought refuge in Rowe territory. He could tell her that Count Rowe took him into his service as a knight because they were short-handed and he had battle experience. He could tell her that he loathed every minute he spent away from her, but his duty to Count Rowe kept him from leaving. But saying those things wouldn’t make anything better. Because those were the exact things she was so desperately afraid of. Those were the fears she’d kept hidden away from everyone at the Officer’s Academy.

Those were the fears she told only to him. And he made them come true.

He didn’t say anything. She waited a moment longer before sighing, rising from her chair, and hurrying out of the room. He thought he saw the glint of fresh tears in the corners of her eyes as she turned to leave.

It took another day before he was able to get out of bed. Manuela treated him, wordlessly most of the time, but did say that she was glad to see him and that he was lucky the Professor spared his life. He wasn’t so sure. A few other clerics came and went, checking in on him throughout the day, and from them he learned that Gwendal was killed at Ailell and that Count Rowe’s army had been soundly defeated before House Daphnel even arrived. It was an embarrassing loss.

But that also meant he was free. Whether the monastery would take him in, whether Claude and the Professor would allow him to serve alongside them, he didn’t know. But he was no longer bound to Count Rowe, and he would never go back there.

He kept his distance from everyone once he was released from the infirmary. Avoiding the eyes of his former classmates, eating at odd times so that the dining hall would be empty, spending a lot of time in his room. He wondered if this was what Bernadetta felt like.

Lying on his bed, his ears perked when someone knocked on his door. For the briefest moment he considered just ignoring it, but he shook his head and wandered over. It was Mercedes. She looked different than he remembered her—shorter hair, a face worn down by the stress of fighting, eyes tired. But she smiled at him in the way only she could, and she stepped into his room and sat on the bed. He followed and sat beside her.

“I’m so happy you’re back, Ashe,” she said. “I was really worried about you all alone out there.”

He lowered his eyes. “I… don’t deserve to be here,” he replied. His fingers fumbled over each other in his lap. He hadn’t exactly said the words out loud before, but… they represented what he truly felt. His heart sunk at the realization.

“Now why would you think that?”

“Because I abandoned everyone,” he said, sighing. “I abandoned my friends, I abandoned the Professor, and… I abandoned Annette.”

Mercedes remained silent for a moment. “She was quite angry.”

“I know.” He hesitated, swallowing hard and summoning the words. “She must really hate me.”

Mercedes shook her head. “She loves you, Ashe.”

He laughed humorlessly. “She used to,” he said. “We were going to go to Fhirdiad together after we graduated. Now she probably never wants to see me again.”

“Of course she does,” Mercedes replied, her voice steady and sweet as always. “She hates you right now because she loves you. Still.”

He caught her eye and fought back the sting of tears in his own. “What can I do, Mercedes? I know I can never atone for what I did, but… I’d like to try to make it up to her, at least.”

She tilted her head. “Do you still love her?”

He blinked. A silly question, an obvious one, but… a necessary one, to be sure. “Of course.”

“Then you need to be there for her when she needs you,” she said. “That’s why she’s angry, isn’t it?”

He rested his head in his hands. “How can I do that?”

Mercedes smiled. “Well, actually… she came to me earlier today and said that she dropped her doll in the storage tower when she went to clean it. She asked me if I’d get it for her.”

“Why?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Because it’s pitch black in there, and she’s afraid of ghosts,” Mercedes said plainly. “And I’m not.”

Ashe chuckled nervously. “So, you think I should go and get her doll, do you?”

“I think that would say a lot about what you’re willing to do for her.”

“Because I’m also afraid of ghosts.”

“Yes, exactly.”

He chewed on that for a moment. A shiver ran down his spine. Of course it would be uncomfortable. Scary. Terrifying. But, how much worse could it be that this? How much worse could it be than deploying at Ailell, ordered to kill his friends? Deep down he dug up the courage he knew he had. He nodded. “All right, I’ll do it.” He rose from the bed, hesitated, and then sat back down. “In a minute. I… need to mentally prepare first.”

Mercedes just quietly chuckled.

***

Finding Annette proved difficult. She wasn’t in her room, unless she just wasn’t answering her door. The usual places he’d find her in the old days were all empty. No sign of her in the greenhouse, no sign of her in the library. He peeked in the war council room, only to get looks from Shamir and Lorenz, who were huddled together over a map on the table and drawing lines. He slinked away without speaking.

It was a strange doll. He looked down at it as he walked, turning it over in his hand. Of course, he’d expected some kind of stuffed toy, but this was different. It was carved from wood and sanded to the point that it was sleek and smooth, then decorated. A work of art, really. He’d never seen it before, not even when he was in her room back in the old days. He made his way out of the reception hall and stopped. Under the gazebo was a lump with orange hair, knees pulled up and face hidden, gently shaking with silent sobs.

There was a lurch in his chest. He walked over and stopped in front of her, then knelt down and touched her shoulder. “Hey, Annette.”

She looked up, her eyes red and puffy. “Ashe?”

He held out the doll. “I, uh… heard you were looking for this.”

Her eyes widened, then shot up to meet his, then shot back down to the doll. Slowly, she reached out and took it, squeezed her eyes shut, and clutched it tight to her chest. A tear streaked down her cheek. “Oh, Goddess, you found it.”

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by arms being thrown around his shoulders. Reeling, he froze for a moment before gently hugging her back. They both stood, still embracing.

“You found it,” she repeated, voice tiny, hands clutching tight. Then she lifted her head and looked him in the eye. She sniffled. “How did you know?”

“Mercedes told me,” he replied. “I… wanted to get it for you.” He hesitated before continuing. “I know how much it hurts to lose something important.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against him again. “It’s from my father,” she said. “He gave it to me a long time ago, but I’ve only recently… you know, since the war…”

Ashe nodded. “It’s like he’s with you.” He swallowed. “Protecting you.”

“It’s all I have,” she whispered. “I… thought I could find him at the monastery, convince him to come back home, but… I never got a chance to talk to him before we evacuated. And now I don’t know where he is or if he’s even still alive or…”

She thumped her fist weakly against his chest. Then she tried to speak again but it only came out as a sob. Ashe tightened his hold on her and gently stroked her back. She was crying, just a little, and the sound of it made his heart shatter. She’d lost so much. Worked so hard, worked herself near to death just to get into the Officer’s Academy for the sole purpose of reuniting with her father, only to lose him again. His eyes stung.

“Thank you,” she finally managed.

He shuddered. “It was nothing,” he replied, voice wavering. “It… was a little scary, I admit, but… knowing how happy you are to get it back made it worth it.”

She held him tight for a long moment in silence. Then she pulled back and looked up at him again, brow furrowed.

“I’m still mad at you.”

The words crashed against him, but he understood. He nodded without letting her go. “You’re right to be.”

Her scowl deepened. “You know why.”

“I do,” he replied, sighing.

“Say it.”

He averted his gaze before shutting his eyes. “Because I put my duty as a knight before my commitment to you, Annette,” he said. “And that’s the one thing you’re most afraid of, isn’t it? That I would do the same thing… he did.”

She lowered her eyes, tears still slowly running down her face.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said, voice low. “Honestly, I don’t even know if I want you to. But…”

She looked up.

“My dream was to become a knight,” he continued. “And I became one. So that dream is… over.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

He smiled weakly. “I mean it’s time I found a new dream.” A pause. His hands shook, but he held her tighter to hide it. “Like, maybe moving to Fhirdiad after the war ends.”

There was the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks. Still, the scowl returned. “What, you think I’ll take you back, just like that?”

“Of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “But…”

“Hmm?”

He exhaled nervously. His heart was racing, and he took a moment to piece the words together. It would be cheesy, sure, but if ever there was a time for the naked truth, this was it. “I don’t think I’d mind spending the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

She scoffed and rested her head on his chest. “You pointed an arrow at me,” she mumbled, sniffling.

“Hit me with one of your magic spells.”

“I’ll hit you with my axe,” she retorted.

He smiled and pulled her close. “I love you, Annette.”

She shivered in his arms, still sniffling, and he pressed a kiss into the top of her head and stayed there, breathing in her scent. It was getting harder to hold the tears back.

“You don’t deserve me,” she whispered.

“I never did.”

“That’s not true,” she replied. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you in the first place if you didn’t. My judgment’s flawless.”

He chuckled against her hair, hugging tighter. “Then I’ll just have to earn your love back, won’t I?”

She pulled back and looked into his eyes with a wry smile, which softened into a genuine smile a moment later. “I missed you so much, Ashe.” She chewed her lip, eyes wet and shimmering. “Promise me you’ll never, ever do that to me again.”

His heart fluttered. He could feel his knees tremble, but he managed to stay upright and give a curt nod. This was more than he deserved. Far more. But a life without Annette was unthinkable. And there was nothing else in this world he wanted more than to make it up to her. Just to see her smile again, without the tears.

“I promise, Annette. I only have one duty now.”

Leaning in, she pecked a quick kiss on his cheek before stepping back and taking his hand. “Good,” she said. “Now stay here—I’ll be right back.”

She turned and started off toward the dormitories.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

She glanced back over her shoulder. “To get my axe,” she replied with a giggle. “Don’t worry, I’ll heal you afterward.”

His eyes watched as she disappeared behind the wall. He would love that girl for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on Twitter: [OrangeRaven989](https://twitter.com/OrangeRaven989)


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